


Go the Fuck to Sleep

by compo67



Series: The Chicago Verse [143]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Banter, Curtain Fic, Dialogue-Only, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, Feels, Grumpy Old Men, Hunter Retirement (Supernatural), Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Old Married Couple, Past Drug Use, Retired Hunter Winchesters (Supernatural), Squabbling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:34:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29280786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compo67/pseuds/compo67
Summary: Dean can't (won't) go to sleep. Sam suffers through it, even though Dean brings up a few interesting topics.(A Cal update is in the end notes.)
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: The Chicago Verse [143]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/46578
Comments: 31
Kudos: 93





	Go the Fuck to Sleep

*******

“Sam.”

“'m sleeping.”

“Oh, sor—hey! Wake up. Wake up, Professor.”

“Dean, _no_. I have a conference call in… _three_ hours. Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t. I’m wide awake.”

“Then go be wide awake on the couch.”

“Hell _no_. It’s cold.”

“You’re the one who keeps the house at sixty-eight degrees, not me.”

“Heat’s expensive!”

“Oh, because you have _so_ many expenses?”

“Yes, yes I do.”

“ _I_ paid the mortgage off.”

“Ahem. Sam. _We_ paid the mortgage off.”

“ _We_?”

“Yeah. I remember. I contributed exactly one dollar.”

“Oh, well, thank you for the dollar that allows us to have a home in which I cannot sleep.”

“Hmm. What _do_ I spend my money on?”

“I don’t know, because I’m asleep.”

“It ain’t blackjack and hookers anymore.”

“What a loss to the world.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“I was. I _am_.”

“Maybe it’s the burrito I had for dinner.”

“Sleep.”

“I should ask for no beans next time.”

“ _Dean_!”

“Quit shoving me. You’re my personal octopus furnace.”

“I’m _what_ —look. I will pay you ten dollars if you go to sleep.”

“First of all, I invented that. Second, I won’t take anything less than fifty bucks.”

“Fifty bucks?! You think I’m going to pay a man fifty bucks for the privilege of sleeping next to—”

“You _know_ , Personal Octopus Furnace would be a killer name for a band. And speaking of _music_ , have you thought about playing the piano again? You know, we happen to own one, remember? Hmm? Remember the expensive baby grand piano _I_ bought? Remember? The one that’s sitting there, gathering dust? Remember, Sam?”

“Dean.”

“Wh— _OW_! That fucking hurt!”

“And I’d do it again.”

“Right in the Beethovens, for fuck’s sake. Goddamn. If you’re not gonna use it, we might as well get rid of it.”

“You’re still talking?”

“Takes up half the living room. I mean, it’s a nice place to put picture frames, but goddamn.”

“Dean. Don’t you dare move my picture frames.”

“One day, I’m gonna destroy that picture from Jazz Fest last year.”

“The one where you’ve got barbeque sauce all over your face like some giant five year old? It’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s gonna meet my Zippo, Sammy. That and the piano.”

“May I remind you that both the items in question are my personal property.”

“Oh yeah? Well, that AC/DC album was _my_ personal property.”

“Is this why you’re—oh my god, why do I keep arguing with you? Good _night._ ” 

“My album took up way less space than your piano.”

“No, Dean.”

“I listened to that album every day. But you never play the piano.”

“I never play it when you’re around.”

“Oh, so _I’m_ the problem.”

“Go. To. Sleep.”

“Sam.”

“No.”

“Sam.”

“ _No_.”

“Did you hear that they’re opening up a marijuana dispensary nearby?”

“You’re worse than the ladies at Bingo. No, I haven’t heard that—and I don’t wanna hear anymore about it. I want to sleep. I want _you_ to sleep.”

“They’re popping up all over the place. Puh. Kids these days. Don’t know how good they have it.”

“Because you had to walk fifteen miles in the snow to get your weed?”

“Fifteen miles in the snow _both_ ways.”

“Oh, okay, grandpa.”

“Luchita told me Javier said that Nico saw they pay twenty bucks an hour _and_ you get a discount.”

“Why are you getting information from Nico?”

“I’m not. It’s from Luchita.”

“Luchita is ninety-seven years old.”

“Yeah, and she beats me at mahjong every fucking time.”

“Does she even know what a dispensary is?”

“Sam. C’mon. She's one of the _biggest_ stoners I have ever known. And oh-boy. Have I known some stoners.”

“I don’t even know where to start with that. So, what? Are you gonna get a job there? Is that the point of _this_?”

“Ehh. Museum’s doing renovations. Don’t really wanna rattle around in a garage right now fixing some asshole’s BMW. Might be good for some extra scratch.”

“Hmph.”

“Don’t be so uptight about it, Sammy.”

“I don’t know how I feel about this.”

“It’s just an idea. I don’t think I’d _actually_ go through with it. But not because I don’t want that nice ass discount. More like. Any opportunity for someone to make money off of the sale of marijuana should not go to some old white dude.”

“That’s… surprisingly insightful for you.”

“Hey, I’m an insightful guy. And besides, I could work at Costco. Maybe I’ll work as one of the guys who punches customers in the throat.”

“Security?”

“Nah, cashier.”

“Har, har.”

“Heh. C’mon. Laugh a little.”

“I am _trying_ to sleep, Dean.”

“I wonder if a blunt would help my knee.”

“It wouldn’t. You’d just be too high to care.”

“Hey—that’s still helpful.”

“Can we talk about this during _regular_ business hours, please?”

“I’m not an expert in the devil’s lettuce, but remember Roland? Dad’s hunting contact in Mississippi? Dude was higher than a hot air balloon round the clock. Fuckin’ wonder that he could hold his gun.”

“I just wanted to sleep.”

“Wait, hang on. I remember this one time you called me from your dorm. Remember? Sam. Remember? You were so high. You thought your fork was a flute. Oregano, my ass.”

“...am I cursed? I think I’m cursed.”

“Well, I guess that’s just what kids do when they go to college. Dumb ass shit. Get into all kinds of weird stuff. Yep. Gotta let them make their own mistakes.”

“Wait. _What_?”

“Gotta say though, I’ll take you smoking a blunt over smoking cigarettes. Maybe then you’d learn how to chill.”

“Dean.”

“Oh, _oh_ , he’s sitting up.”

“It was once. Just once. And you’re talking like you’ve never called me under the influence.” 

“On second thought, I don’t really wanna work at Costco.”

“It’s like talking to a wall.”

“Hey, so what if I called your fussy, neurotic ass every once in a while? Slightly intoxicated or whatever. I’m a delight. And now you get to live with my ass next to your ass twenty-four hours a day.”

“Joy.”

“Yep, I’m just the gift that keeps on giving.”

“Count sheep or _something_.”

“Hey, have you ever taken a hit of acid?”

“ _What_.”

“I did. Just the one time though.”

“Dean. Go to sleep.”

“Have you? Sam? Sammy? Have you?”

“No. Reality is enough for me, thanks.”

“You _would_ say that.”

“Go. To. Sleep.”

“Do you think it’s weird that it just wasn’t what I expected? Like. I knew I was out of my melon. Blitzed. So gone. But I thought I’d see monsters and gross shit.”

“No. It’s not weird.”

“You sure?”

“I’m not surprised you didn’t see something dark. With the lives we’ve had?”

“Ehh, I guess. Yeah. Sure. I can see that.”

“Out of curiosity, what _did_ you see?”

“Aliens and who shot JFK.”

“Ugh, why did I ask.”

“You. I saw you.”

“You did?”

“Yep. I hallucinated about you.”

“...I don’t know if that’s romantic or…”

“Romantic. _Definitely_ romantic.”

“Well. Please don't write that out on my birthday cake next year.” 

“Valentine's Day card it is, then.”

“Great.”

“We were in Baby, driving on a rainbow. Zeppelin was on. Oh, but you were sitting on my lap.” 

“That’s uncomfortable. And probably physically impossible to do in the car.” 

“Well, yeah. No one should have the right to be so damn tall.”

“I was sleeping so well.”

“And you’re so damn stubborn.”

“It's genetic, Dean.”

“You ever wonder how the fuck angels did time travel? Like, did they ever explain it?”

“Probably, I don't know. I'm begging you to go the fuck to sleep.”

“I'm gonna say they harnessed the power of black holes.”

“You can't harness power from a black hole.”

“Didn't know you taught science, Professor.”

“If anything even got near enough to a black hole, it would be sucked into it and die. The end. No more story. Goodnight.”

“Hmm.”

“No. No 'hmm.'”

“Can’t I just build the galaxy’s largest syringe and get at a black hole that way?” 

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”

“Stars, then.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Technically, we're all made of ‘ _stardust’_.”

“I'm ignoring you.”

“And that's different from any other time, how? We should get another fire pit for the backyard.”

“I told you we're not doing that.”

“Sheesh. Scorch the siding just one itty bitty time.”

“Both the Fire Chief and the Chief of Police talked to you about this.”

“Ehh, what do they know.”

“Plenty!”

“Yeah, well, the yard is part of my side of the house. So what I say goes.”

“It doesn't work like that.”

“It does because _I’m_ older. I own the yards, front and back, plus the kitchen. You can have the rest.”

“Don’t wave me off like that. That’s stupid.”

“What if I clap? Like this: Sam. A blowjob. Post haste.”

“Go. To. Sleep.”

“You ever think about moving?”

“Yes, far, far away from you. I’m gonna join the Dean Winchester Protection Program and _finally_ get a good night of sleep.”

“We could go back to sleeping in separate rooms.”

“ _I_ could. _You_ would never.”

“Shut yer mouth, Sam.”

“You shut _your_ mouth, Dean.”

“Would it kill you to put little chocolates on my pillow before bed?”

“Absolutely not.”

“That’s fine. I got my stash.”

“I thought I cleaned it out!”

“Sam, _please_. You didn’t find my second stash.”

“Urrrrrgggghhhhh. I wonder who I can pawn you off on.”

“Did I tell you? Last week, at our poker game, Nestor brought one of his nieces?”

“Maybe Kevin needs company for a while.”

“She’s a real estate agent. Swept two games. Handed everyone their asses. We got talking and she showed me a little number two blocks from here. Bigger yard, more space.”

“Wait. You want to move?”

“No, I’m just saying…”

“I’ve never really thought about it.”

“So think about it now.”

“But I like it here.”

“Everyone says the second house is the best house.”

 _“Everyone_ says that? Like who? Kevin?”

“Hey, he's a smart kid.” 

“Dean. He’s in his forties.”

“They grow up so fast.”

“…I don't know how I feel about moving.”

“Yeah. Me neither. Just a thought.”

“This is home.”

“But what if we had more Sasquatch room?.”

“I don’t feel cramped in here. Why are you asking about this now? Did you sell our house for some magic beans?”

“Damn, _that's_ what I forgot to tell you.”

“You _would_.”

“And you'd be damned glad for the adventure. If it were up to you, we'd just read all the damn time. Talk about hallucinations.”

“Reading is not the same as hallucinating.”

“Ehh, agree to disagree.”

“What? _No_.”

“Five bedrooms, three baths. It's not horrible.”

“What would we do with five rooms?”

“That's two extra rooms to have sex in.”

“Two extra rooms to kick you out of.”

“Two extra rooms to eat you out in.”

“Two extra rooms for my books.”

“Two extra rooms for my records.”

“You have plenty of space for your records here. Don't act like you don’t.”

“I could use more space.”

“Remember how we used to have… well, it wasn’t nothing. Dean. Even at the bunker, we had some stuff.”

“Yeah. But this stuff’s… different.”

“Yeah.”

“Would you think about it, Sam?”

“I will.”

“Good. Me too.”

“Now go to sleep.”

“Spoon me.”

“You always end up complaining.”

“I won't give you shit about your icicle feet this time.”

“Dean, if we moved, we’d move away from…”

“Yeah.”

“She’d never forgive us.”

“Yup. And to be honest, I wouldn’t blame her.”

“Huh.”

“So?”

“We could build a second story.”

“I don’t know if either of us need a project that big _or_ stairs as an end result.”

“Elevator.”

“Nope.”

“Chair lift.”

“Be serious.”

“I _am_ serious, Sam. Fine. Maybe we should fix up the kitchen.”

“You said that last year and the year before that and the year before that.”

“Well, I mean it this time.”

“Or... we could just hire professionals.”

“Fuck no. I know how to do this shit and so do you. Don’t be lazy. Fuck, I gotta rip the freaking cabinets out.”

“Mmhmm. Cabinets _and_ countertops.”

“Cabs tops.”

“Uh huh. And fixtures.”

“Fi’tures.”

“And plumbing.”

“Plum’n.”

“Shhh.”

“You smell good, Sammy.”

“Thank you, Dean.”

“Yuh.”

“Get some rest.”

“‘kay.”

“Good.”

“…you used to reek like an ashtray.”

“Dean!” 

**Author's Note:**

> hello, my dears. <3 first installment for 2021 and i'm happy it's a dialogue fic. i hope y'all are doing well. 
> 
> many of y'all know that i've been helping to care for my grandmother, who has been living with Alzheimer's for the past ten years. we started in-home hospice last week and it's been difficult to process and adjust to. there are three of us caring for her round the clock. it is an overwhelming amount of work and effort, but it is a privilege to do so for the little lady who raised me. we're all aware that it's only going to get more difficult in whatever amount of time lies ahead. i'm trying to keep time aside for self care, which includes writing, but i often fall asleep just as i've fired up the laptop. 
> 
> i'm still here, and i still read every single comment. i still work on my writing and post them with the hope that it makes someone smile or find tenderness out there in the world. it just might take my more time to post content. thank you for being here. thank you for sticking around. 
> 
> comments are love. <3


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